


such a familiar and quiet thread

by RiseHigh



Series: in this ever traveling echo [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Panic Attacks, and frigga is just the best, because there is no way that is not on thor's mind, because thor would have to tell his mother something about loki, regardless of what was shown on screen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-29 18:42:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20086957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiseHigh/pseuds/RiseHigh
Summary: Physically crashing into her had not done it, but it was that smell—a little thing that he had forgotten—that told Thor his Mother was real.





	such a familiar and quiet thread

**Author's Note:**

> So apparently, I'm compelled to write multiple missing scenes now? In my head, this exists in the same universe as the missing scenes in Drifting Sense of Inertia, but it's functionally a standalone fic of Frigga being the most perceptive mom and Thor getting more of the love and compassion he deserves.

It was overwhelming to be back with his mother. Thor had seen her face and even heard her voice in his dreams, but this was different. He was with her. Truly sitting with his mother. If were not for the smell—the mix of flowers from her garden and the earthen scent of her weaving—he would have thought it was only one of his dreams. Physically crashing into her had not done it, but it was that smell—a little thing that he had forgotten—that told Thor his Mother was real. 

She smelled of home and safety. It was something that was so familiar that had become foreign with the passage of time.

It was the same with the feel of her seidr.

Thor used to barely notice it—the way she would wrap her seidr around him, like a blanket of soothing warmth. It was another way for her to manifest her love. He took it for granted—took her for granted. He could scarcely remember the last time that he had felt it. It must have been then—or now—this very day, but he could not recall. He probably had not even bothered to notice, having been so wrapped up in his concern for Jane and the Aether. 

Today would be different. 

He would commit the feel of her seidr to his memory—the way it tingled gently through his skin and soothed the sharp edges in his mind. As if being able to carry that feeling with him, would mean that he was not so alone.

Thor did not want to say anything. Even as his mother led him to sit, he intended to say nothing, so that he would not spoil this moment—this memory—with the mess of the present. But in his mother’s presence, the words spilled out of him in a rush. A part of him worried that he was not coherent, but his mother seemed to understand. Maybe not the meaning of his words, but the mere fact he needed to say them. Needed someone to listen. To hear all that he had done and failed to do.

It felt like he would never stop speaking until, without truly realizing what it was happening, Thor said his brother’s name

Or part of it.

Thor’s voice cracked before he could get the second syllable out. He had not spoken Loki’s name in over a year. Maybe two. But with his mother it had just slipped out. And with it came the memories. 

The gold of Asgard faded and was replaced with darkness of the Statesman. He reached for the feel of her seidr but instead felt only the oppressive foreign magic of Ebony Maw as he fought against the bindings—helpless to watch as Loki struggled and gagged.

Then the sickening crack before Loki fell still and Thanos dumped him at his feet. That was all he could see—Loki lying dead before him.

“Thor.” 

His mother’s voice barely cut through the sound of the ship tearing apart around him.

“Thor, darling, just breathe.”

He tried to do as she asked but the air was burning.

“Listen to my voice and breathe—in through your nose and out through your mouth.”

Her voice was louder and Thor clung to it. It was a struggle at first, but gradually the smell of fire and death was replaced by that of his mother. 

“That’s good.”

Thor felt her seidr wash over him with more force than before. He wanted to dive into it—fall so deep that he would never emerge—never have to face all that he had done. Though as much as he wanted it, he knew it was something he did not deserve. He dreaded the feeling of it being ripped away when his mother learned of Loki’s fate—of his failure to save his brother. Yet, he knew it was not fair to hide in what he did not deserve. 

He forced his eyes open but kept his gaze on his hands. His useless pathetic hands. Compared to the fine silk of his mother’s dress they looked grubby. Pathetic. Like him. His mother would be so ashamed once she knew the truth.

“I know that I should not come here to add to your burdens,” he began, voice shaking. “But it is only fair that I…”

“Thor…”

He shook his head. “No, Mother, let me finish.”

“Thor.” Her hands covered his and he tried to shake them free, but her grip was firm. “You are my son and I am your mother. Nothing you can say will ever make you a burden to me.”

Thor took a shuddering breath and found the courage to look up at his mother. The look she gave him was so gentle and loving that it made him ache. But within that love he could see a deep sorrow—a sadness that told him she had figured out what he had been unable to say.

“I’m sorry,” he stuttered. “I failed him.”

“That is not how such things work.”

“You were not there.”

“He fought beside you?”

Her question took him by surprise and, for a moment, he was back on the Statesman. Standing next to Loki as the Black Order boarded the ship. Loki had been tense and almost vibrating with fear, but he had stood firmly next to Thor with his daggers in hand and sparks of green around his fingers.

“Thor, darling?”

“Yes,” he said shakily as he pulled his thoughts back from the memory. He took a steadying breath, and continued with more certainty. “Loki did. He fought valiantly for Asgard at my side.”

“Then there is no more you need to tell me.” Thor opened his mouth to speak but she continued before he could say word, “Knowing that my sons will reconcile—that Loki will come back to us—that is a burden lifted off my heart.” She paused to squeeze his hands again. “No matter how the story ends.”

“It is not fair.”

“The Norns rarely are.” She reached up to cup his face with her hand. He closed his eyes against the tears that started to fall. “And you, my boy, you cannot blame yourself for what the Norns have wrought.”

Thor leaned into the warmth of her touch and, after a long moment, nodded.


End file.
